


Worcester or Ranch

by superstarrgirl



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: but lots of nouis because who doesn't like nouis, he's my favorite louis like really, homophobic slur, no group sex because i don't write that stuff ever so, overprotective louis dadadum, uhhh there aren't ships more like platonic friendships with louis and the lads so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 21:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1164802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstarrgirl/pseuds/superstarrgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis might not want to admit it, but from day one, he would take a bullet for any of those boys.</p>
<p>Or, </p>
<p>Even if Louis is nervous as all hell, those boys come first: always have, and always will</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worcester or Ranch

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiiiiiiii. Louis-centric this time! Wooh! Inspiration comes from this little video and the tags: http://fell-in-love-at-a-coffee-shop.tumblr.com/post/74677301303/bertmacklin-getaproperjobyoudicks   
> so there's that. The car crash mentioned briefly toward the end is the one that happened in 2012 when they were going to Plymouth and it left Lou, Niall and Zayn with pretty bad neck injuries. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, the Swans are a footy team from Sydney. 
> 
> Disclaimer: i don't own the boys or have any affiliations or connections with them, this story is merely my own musings and ideas

Louis is so nervous he’s finding it difficult to breathe. 

The car thrums under him, vibrates under his fingertips from where they’re pressed into the vinyl seats. Harry’s leaning into him on Louis’ left, and Zayn is pressed against the window, staring out at the crowds upon crowds of screaming teenage girls. Niall’s across from Zayn, fingers twitching almost involuntarily, probably playing the picking progression for ‘Little Things’, and Liam is next to Niall, across from Louis, jiggling his knees and causing Louis’ knees to bounce as well. They all look absolutely petrified.

The car brakes under them, and Zayn jolts forward, Louis’ hand going out instinctively to catch him. Zayn turns to him with wide brown eyes, curling his fingers around Louis’ surreptitiously – Louis understands, knows that this is more than just concert nerves. Knows that this is their own fucking movie and what if the fans hate it and this is bigger than anything any of them could have even dreamed.

Zayn drops Louis’ hand when they both turn to look out the window again. There must be thousands, hundreds of thousands of girls standing there, holding signs and chanting their names. It’s terrifying. Louis has to do something. 

“Two really unique sauces. Talk to me.” He suddenly blurts, leaning forward to look at Niall. Niall turns his head so fast it’s a surprise he doesn’t get whiplash. Liam flinches, Harry turns to look out the front of the van, body pressing into Louis’, and Zayn remains still. “Two really unique sauces.” 

Niall hesitates for a fraction of a second, breathes in a shaky breath that Louis can hear rattle in his lungs from across the car, and then replies, “Worcester.” Louis has no idea what the fuck that is, but it’s an answer and it got Niall’s mind off the crowds if even for a second.

“Worcester.” Louis repeats, turning to face Liam.

Liam falters for a second, and then exclaims, “Ranch! Ranch!” Louis nods, notes the way Liam’s eyes brighten for a moment. 

Louis looks to Zayn and Harry – Zayn, who’s staring out the window still and playing with his engagement ring, and Harry, who’s still looking out the front of the car, trembling a bit. “Zayn, Harry.” Louis begins, and Zayn finally looks at him. “Your mission is to – you have to make sure, you have to make sure, you have to answer every single interview with ranch or – what’s the other one, Niall? Or Worcester. Ranch or Worcester sauce. I know neither of you are going to do it…” The car suddenly stops for real, the engine cuts, the screams grow louder and Louis has to force himself to keep speaking, has to stop his voice from faltering. “But we are.” 

The intensity of Liam’s leg-jiggling gets stronger, Niall’s fingers move faster and faster, Harry spins to face the window as though he didn’t even hear Louis – probably didn’t, deaf as a post – but Zayn repeats incredulously, “every interview?” Louis doesn’t answer, but god does he want to kiss Zayn.

Louis glances across to Niall, who’s staring at Zayn, and Zayn’s staring right back. Just as Louis turns his head and catches them, he sees Niall mouth something, something he doesn’t quite catch, but Zayn blinks in surprise and then smiles. Louis ribs Zayn as the door opens. Harry clambers out first, Louis follows and screams erupt around him. He follows Harry’s lead blindly, only stops when they’ve reached Paul and Lou, only stops when Harry grips his elbow and mutters hurriedly, eyes darting around like he’s looking for an escape, “Ranch or Worcester?” 

Louis is pretty sure he’s going to cry or kiss him, he’s not really sure yet.

|| 

Louis has, somehow, drawn the single room. It’s a rarity for him – it might be luck of the draw, but Louis knows that if Paul has anything to do with room assignments, Louis will, 9 out of 10 times, be with someone like Liam. Someone trustworthy. Someone who will keep an eye on things. And normally he hates it, but tonight, after the movie premiere, all he wants is to curl up in bed with Liam or Zayn or Niall or Harry or someone and have them tell him that it was all real, all of that was fucking real and not a fucking daydream and Jesus he doesn’t remember this in the plans he had for himself when did they get so fucking huge they couldn’t see the ground anymore?

There’s a hesitant knock on the door when Louis is settling into bed, pulling the covers around him like a cocoon. “Come in.” He calls out, voice cracking for a nanosecond. The door slides open with a click, and Niall slips through the gap, holding a key between his thumb and forefinger. Must have got it from Paul. 

Niall stands in the entrance hall for a moment, looking around awkwardly. Louis allows himself a second to stare at Niall, breathe in everything he has become in two short years. He’s filled out and become a bit more himself; he stands taller and prouder, eyes bright and lips quirked. But when he meets Louis’ eyes, they’re shining under the low lights of the city filtering from the window, and he’s no longer _Niall Horan of One Direction_ or _Niall Horan, the Irish heartbreaker who’s easy with a smile_. He’s Niall, just Niall, who learned too young what it was like to grow up and fake a smile and pretend that everything was okay when it wasn’t, who learned at only 17 that the best way to hide how he felt was to smile and laugh. 

“You alright, Ni?” Louis questions softly, moving to lift the covers and stand, but Niall shakes his head sharply, closing his eyes with a wince. Louis stops mid-rise, becomes unnaturally still and just sits and watches. Subconsciously, he leans back on the heels of his hands, eyebrows raised. Niall stands quietly with his hands clenching and unclenching against his sides. His eyes are still closed and the city bathes him in pale light.

“We…we have a movie.” Niall finally chokes out, eyes suddenly flying open. “Tell me that wasn’t a dream. Please, Lou, tell me that wasn’t a dream.” He’s begging, staring at Louis like he holds all the answers to every question ever asked in his hand.

Louis gives him a very small smile and crawls back into bed, patting the spot next to him. Niall gets in beside him and tucks his head under Louis’ chin, arm curling tightly across Louis’ waist. Louis drags him in, notches his chin on Niall’s bleach blond hair, tries to remember the last time he and Niall got an hour to each other, tries to remember the last time he got to spend any time with the second youngest member of the band. 

They lay like that, heartbeats in time, chests rising and falling rhythmically. When Niall’s breathing evens out and he curls closer to Louis, hooking his leg around the older boy, and when Louis presses a gentle kiss into Niall’s hair and is about to fall asleep does Louis finally whisper:

“It wasn’t a dream. I promise.”

||

The next day, they all stumble into Zayn and Harry’s room to eat breakfast, play Xbox and relax. Paul tells them that he’s cancelled all their prior engagements so that they can just have a free day, and while Louis wonders if he can actually do that and if he’ll get in shit with management, he appreciates so much.

They order one of everything on the breakfast menu as well as four bottles of coke, three bottles of sprite and as much chocolate ice cream that can be carried. When the food arrives, Niall shoves everyone aside and piles as much as humanly possible onto his plate, shoving some into his mouth as he does. Normally, Louis would be disgusted and reprimand Niall for disgusting eating habits, but he’s too busy laughing. Zayn offers a plate, which Louis takes but doesn’t load up until the other four have enough on theirs.

Zayn gives him an odd look when he walks past to sit on the couch but says nothing of it. When they’ve all got their food, they settle in various positions around the room – Zayn spread across the slept-in bed, Harry and Niall squished on the couch, Liam flopped over the other bed that looks incredibly comfortable and soft, and Louis sat cross-legged on the floor. 

Niall and Harry are playing COD on the Xbox that’s been connected to the flat screen, alternating between blowing things up, taking bites of whatever is on their plates and throwing mini tomatoes at the TV whenever they die, which is a lot. Louis is watching, smiling and laughing at them when Zayn hangs down next to him, upside down. Louis raises an eyebrow at his best mate but says nothing, and Zayn just stares for a minute, amber eyes warm yet calculating.

“You know.” Zayn suddenly says quietly, lips close enough to touch Louis’ shoulder. “I was thinking about yesterday.” 

Louis inclines his head a fraction in Zayn’s direction, a sign that he’s listening, and Zayn goes on in that same quiet voice, like he’s afraid that if he talks too loud the other lads might hear him. “In the car when we were about to get out, you asked for sauces or something and told us we had to use those in interviews as much as we could. At first, I thought it was one of your stupid games or pranks or something.” Louis affects a look of outrage, placing the plate on the ground next to him and crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

“That’s not very nice.” He pouts, sticking his bottom lip out. Zayn shoves him with a quiet laugh, but Louis remains impassive. 

“But then last night, I was thinking. That wasn’t a game, not to you. You did that to get the movie premiere off our minds and to get us thinking about something else. The sauce thing, you wanted us to think about something else and get us on a task. You mightn’t like to admit it, Lou.” Zayn shoves his shoulder again, but this time when Louis meets his eyes there’s no teasing, only real and genuine love. “But you’re looking out for us even when you don’t realize it.”

All Louis can do is stare for a second, his jaw hanging open. And then his face cracks into a grin, and he mumbles as he scrambles onto the bed beside Zayn, giving him a hug, “sometimes you’re too smart for your own good, Mr. Malik.” 

Zayn laughs into Louis’ neck and hugs him back, bone-crushingly tight, and whispers back, “Sometimes you’re too dorky for yours.” If Louis weren’t on the verge of tears, he would have had a snappy retort, but as it is, he’s barely holding it in.

He doesn’t know the last time he told the band he loved them, and when he says it out loud to the room after pulling away from Zayn, Niall bursts into fits of giggles, rolling over to kick his feet in the air like Louis has told a great joke or something, Liam pulls a face and Harry groans and throws a pillow at him. Zayn just smirks like he knows a secret – which, Louis supposes, he kind of does. 

They might bitch about it, or laugh about it, but Louis doesn’t miss the way they all say, “love you too, Lou,” doesn’t miss the way their eyes sparkle genuinely.

||

Australia is a beautiful place, full of wonderful people who have kind hearts and even warmer tones.

Well. Most of them. 

They’re in a bar in Sydney, watching the Swans play a pretty rough game on the television. Niall had insisted they go to a bar, saying that they wouldn’t be harassed by teenage girls and would be surrounded by men who just wanted to watch the same thing and enjoy the atmosphere. Louis, and the rest of them, are suckers when it comes to Niall, so that’s how they find themselves at a bar on Monday night instead of rehearsing for the show.

Niall’s shouting something at the TV, beer in hand, and the other four are watching, totally lost by the game being played. “Ugh, did you see that?!” Niall demands, turning to the guy next to him, who nods enthusiastically and shakes Niall’s shoulder, obviously not giving a damn that One Direction is seated beside him at the bar.

“Uh…excuse me.” A rough voice coughs out behind them, and both Niall and Louis turn to see a guy with huge, bulging muscles and a thick neck, tattoos covering every inch of skin. “But you’re in my seat.” His Australian accent is thick and drawling. He’s speaking to Niall.

Louis cocks an eyebrow and rests an elbow on the countertop. “Sorry, mate, but he was here first.” The guy turns icy green eyes on him, lip curling back in a sneer.

“No, he wasn’t.” The guy snaps. “That’s my chair. Get your pasty ass out.” Niall shrinks back against the countertop and looks as though he’s about to move when Louis places a hand on his thigh to stop him. The guy’s eyes follow.

“He’s not going anywhere.” Louis says very quietly, squeezing Niall’s thigh lightly.

The guy’s eyes darken, and his lips play into an evil looking smirk. He turns away, facing his buddies, who all look as mean and thick-necked as he. “Fine.” He growls, going to walk away but not before Louis hears him mutter darkly, “Fags.”

Louis is up and out of his seat before he’s even aware of what’s he doing. He taps the guy sharply on the shoulder, the man turns, Louis swings and his fist connects with the guy’s nose. There’s a cracking sound under his knuckles and blood splashes across the back of his hand. He’s never punched someone, but there’s enough sucker behind the punch that the man keels backwards and into his group of friends, gripping his hopefully broken nose to try and stem the blood flow.

“We may be fags.” Louis tells the guy, voice eerily calm as he runs a hand over his sore knuckles. “But we’re the richest fags you’ll ever meet.” He turns back to the other four and the bartender, who are all staring at him in shock. “Let’s go.” He marches out, rubbing his hand. Jesus, that hurt more than he anticipated.

They hail a cab back to the hotel to get ready for the concert that night, and they’re all oddly quiet as the driver takes them down street after street, hanging sharp turns. Liam is sat up the front and Louis is squished next to Niall, who’s pushed next to Harry, who’s pressing Zayn into the window. Niall stares down at his hands for the first five minutes or so, and then he knocks his leg against Louis’, a signal to look up. Louis obliges. Niall meets his eyes and says very softly, “You punched him. For me.” 

Louis shrugs, leans in close so his head is resting on Niall’s shoulder. 

“You could get in so much trouble.” Niall continues in that subdued voice, and Louis manages to work an arm around the younger boy’s waist, digging his fingers in just gently enough to make Niall squirm and to lighten up the lines on his face

Louis presses a kiss to Niall’s temple, pulls his hand away from Niall’s waist briefly to squeeze Harry’s arm and says, just as softly as Niall had been talking, “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

||

Harry starts screaming in his sleep when they start the third tour.

It’s 2 in the morning and Louis is finally, _finally_ , settling in to get some sleep after talking to his mother and sisters and Stan and anybody else he could while he had the chance. The bunk is comfortable and warm, smells like aftershave and Zayn’s shampoo and sweat and everything Louis could possibly want it to smell like.

Out of habit, even though the boys are long asleep, Louis murmurs into the darkness, “Goodnight boys.” Just as he’s finally putting his head on the pillow, almost the moment his eyes close, a scream pierces the room, and Louis is leaping off his bed instantly, because that scream is so full of pain and fear and agony and all too Harry. 

He kneels beside the bottom bunk across from him, pushing the curtains back to reveal a screaming Harry, long fingers knotted tightly in the sheets, curled in on himself. 

“Louis!” Someone shouts beside him, there’s a muffled thump and a: “Niall! Are you okay?” There’s a hurried answer but Louis can’t pay them any attention.

“Harry, Harry.” Louis whispers, reaching out and pushing at Harry’s broad shoulders insistently. “Harry.” Harry’s still screaming, and it’s unlike anything Louis has ever heard. It’s filled with so much anguish and Louis doesn’t know why Harry is screaming, all he knows is that he wants it to stop. He gives one last push, doesn’t know if he can do it without bursting into tears.

Harry’s eyes suddenly fly open to reveal electric green irises, and he jerks away from Louis as though burned, scrambling into a sitting position. His eyes dart around nervously, the sheets pulled up under his chin.

“Harry…” Louis begins, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch Harry’s knee, glad when Harry doesn’t draw away. “Are you alright?”

No, of course he isn’t, what a stupid question. But Louis doesn’t correct himself, doesn’t do anything when Liam kicks the back of his foot.

“I…I don’t know.” Harry murmurs, sliding further under the covers. Like this, he looks like a child that’s had a nightmare. Young, innocent and frightened.

“Would you like me to sleep with you?” Louis questions softly, already tugging back the covers. Harry doesn’t reply, just slides over on the bed to allow Louis more room. “Go back to bed, boys. I’ve got him.” Louis says to the other lads, who look as though they want to protest, but they’re silenced with a quick glare from Louis. They all clamber back into their beds – Liam into the one next to Louis’ and Zayn and Niall, not really surprisingly, into Niall’s. 

Louis opens his arms, and Harry snuggles in close, burying his face in Louis’ neck, warm breath fanning across Louis’ skin and causing Goosebumps to break. They just lie like that in each other’s arms until Louis feels something cold and wet against his skin, feels Harry’s shoulders tremble and realizes with a jolt that Harry is crying. Harry never cries – he’s Harry; he’s the only one with a semblance of sanity around him.

Louis entwines their legs together, presses his hands harder into the small of Harry’s back, buries his face in the mop of curls that he so adores. “I got you, I got you.” He whispers quietly, hopes the other boys don’t hear Harry crying, hopes the other boys can’t hear the strongest link in the band breaking. Louis, to be honest, doesn’t really care if the other boys hear, just cares about Harry.

He places a kiss on Harry’s forehead, whispers one last time, “I got you, Harry.” Finally, Harry’s cries subside and he curls further into Louis like a cat. Only when Louis is absolutely certain that Harry is asleep does he finally let his eyes close and sleep drag him under.

||

The hotel bar is quiet – being only midday, it’s exactly what Louis was hoping for. There’s a glass of very expensive champagne sitting in front of him, and he doesn’t remember ordering it, remembers taking a sip and spitting it right back out. Too bubbly, too fizzy for the hour.

Louis waves the bartender over with a noncommittal wave of his hand. He gestures to his drink, threading his fingers in his hair to hold his head up. “Can I get a…something stronger?” He requests, ignoring the way his voice cracks. The bartender surveys him, glances up and down, and then shrugs, decides it’s not his business and pours Louis a shot of vodka. Louis downs it the second it’s put in front of him, not even bothering to wait for a chaser.

Suddenly, there’s a warm hand on the small of his back, and he turns to see Liam behind him, the other three hovering close by. Louis shoots them one glare and then turns back to the bar, waves the empty shot glass to signal another.

“Louis.” Liam says quietly when Louis downs the second shot, loves the way the liquid chases in his veins, sets him to burning. He needed this – he really, really needed this. “Louis.” 

“Liam.” Louis bites out, gritting his teeth. “What do you want.” It’s not a question, and Liam doesn’t answer.

“Louis, please talk to us.” It’s Niall now, sliding into the gap between Louis and the other stool, fingers gripping at Louis’ elbow.

“Niall, get off.” Louis says, voice dangerously low. Niall’s grip only gets tighter, and he opens his mouth to say something. Louis isn’t sure what’s happening, but suddenly he’s on his feet and his knuckles are throbbing and Niall’s stumbling back into Zayn, clutching his cheek and a cry slipping out of his mouth.

“Louis!” Harry exclaims, rounding to face Niall and check the injuries, but Niall isn’t having any of it. He pulls himself from Zayn’s grip and pushes Harry aside with an annoyed huff, straightens his clothes, fixes Louis with a very determined stare, and then he marches up to the older boy and sweeps him into a hug.

Louis’ arms are trapped against his side – Niall’s got a bloody tight grip – and as much as he might want to get away, Louis knows he’s stuck. He fights as much as he can, worming his body this way and that, but when Niall’s grip only gets tighter, when Niall buries his face in Louis’ shoulder and murmurs sweet words into the honey skin there, Louis suddenly gives up the fight, and instead bursts into tears. He wraps his arms around Niall’s tiny waist and buries his face into the crook of Niall’s neck, tears leaking from her eyes as his whole body is wracked with sobs.

“Twins…she’s having twins.” Louis chokes out. Saying it out loud makes it all seem so much more real, and suddenly the tears are all-consuming, his grip gets harder on Niall as though the younger boy were the anchor and Louis the ship caught in a storm. “My mum is having twins.”

Niall rubs his back comfortingly, shushes him gently, tells him that they know, they know, they understand.

“I’m not going to be there to see my baby sisters grow up.” Louis murmurs once the tears have finally subsided, and it’s like a tidal wave of new emotions – pain, horror, shock, deep-seated self-loathing that he can’t control. He can’t breathe, can’t feel anything except Niall’s arms around him, holding him steady. 

Part of Louis – every part, actually – knows that if Niall and the other boys weren’t there, he would have drifted off into pretty dangerous territory a long time ago. 

||

_The accident is probably the scariest thing Louis’s ever been in._

_He doesn’t really remember too much of it. All he remembers is sitting in the backseat with Niall pressed on one side, Zayn on the other, Harry and Liam in the far back, probably asleep. They’re in Plymouth, or driving to it, when the other car plows into the back of theirs with enough force to jar them all forward._

_Louis’ head ricochets backwards, snapping off the headrest, and he blanks out, but not before he hears Liam and Harry’s surprised cries, Niall's gasp of pain, Zayn’s groan. Louis doesn’t remember much about the accident, but he does remember throwing his arm out to catch Niall, not being quite quick enough to catch Zayn, whose head smacks into the seat in front of him and he knocks out immediately, eyes falling closed and flopping uselessly against Louis._

_Louis remembers screaming, doesn’t remember if it was he or Niall doing it._

||

When they met on X Factor, Louis quite quickly understood the way the four boys’ brains worked, and how exactly the best way to work with them was.

Zayn was dark and mysterious and sometimes a little moody, but once you cracked the shell he became the best person to have a laugh with and was always open to talk. He looked into things a little deeper than anybody else and always knew exactly what to say and do when nobody else did. Louis discovered that if you got him talking about drawing, painting, graffiti, his comics or his family, he’d become an open book, willing to talk about absolutely anything. 

Liam was protective and a little annoying. He wanted his four boys all in a row, Mama Duck to the babies, and he didn’t like it at first when Louis pulled dangerous stunts or got them in trouble. They always got in arguments, the two of them, about who left the clothes lying on the bed and who messed up the note in the song. Liam was always telling Louis to stop messing around and constantly reminding Louis that they were on a competition, they had to win. Louis gave up in trying to tell Liam that he understood _all_ the pressure that was placed on them, which was why he acted out. But eventaully the two of them worked it out and became, as they were known by Paul and the rest of their management, the dynamic duo. 

Harry was Harry. There was nothing wrong with him. He and Louis grew really close really quickly, becoming almost attached at the hip. Harry was, much like Zayn, always open to talk, but Harry didn’t take quite as much work to crack open, wasn’t like a clam, constantly closed up. Harry welcomed Louis in, would sit up with him at midnight and talk about nothing. Harry was the easiest to be around simply because he was so easy, he was so wonderful; he was amazing just by breathing. His entire existence, Louis figured, was a gift.

Niall, however. Niall was the hardest of the four to work out. Louis thought at first that Niall would be easy – he was always quick with a smile, always laughing and bright and walked around with a guitar in hand. But once they were put in a band together, Niall never stopped smiling, even when they were booted off and sent packing. Niall was always smiling, and that set off alarm bells in Louis’ mind. It wasn’t until Louis and Liam got in such a bad fight that Liam actually stormed from the room and Louis threatened to leave the band, only when Niall broke down in tears on the bed, only for a half a minute before he wiped his eyes and made a joke out of the whole thing did Louis suddenly think to himself; maybe the smile masks something so much more. 

Louis learned quite quickly with the four boys how totally different they were, how they all viewed the world through different perspectives. And yet, that was probably what made the band so cohesive – the differences, the learning each other under the covers of another unfamiliar hotel. 

Louis’s still learning, even three years on, that the four boys he got stuck with so begrudgingly are his boys and his alone, and as much as he mightn’t like to admit it, he would certainly, _definitely_ , take a bullet for them on any given day. 


End file.
